Chapter 13

Mordred knelt by Gwendolyn's unconscious body where she lay on the shore of the lake. She was alive, but a shard of the Crystal must have struck her when it broke apart. Poor thing. Poor, accident-prone thing. He vanished his gauntlet so he could run his fingers over her cheek, savoring the feeling of her skin against his. So soft.

So his.

Gwendolyn still clutched the necklace he had fashioned for Zoe in her hand. He gently took it from her before dissolving it, returning the iron and the magic back to himself. He would never make that mistake again.

It seemed so foolish in the first place, looking back at his decisions over the past few months since Gwendolyn's arrival in Avalon. How childish he had been. How weak. Never again. No, it was finally time for him to become the monster that Avalon believed him to be.

No one would ever think to oppose him again.

Carefully, he scooped Gwendolyn up into his arms. She would be fine. Witches and wizards of Avalon had the same unnatural healing capabilities as the elementals. The Ancients knew that Gwendolyn's irritating predecessor certainly would have been wiped from the face of the isle if not for it.

He kissed her forehead gently where it rested against his shoulder. "Let us go home, my love." His love, and soon to be his wife.

But first, he had a small matter to deal with.

The matter of exterminating all the elementals of Avalon. All those who lived today…and all those who would follow. One by one. Forever.

Until the end of time.

Or his life.

Gwen woke up slowly, groaning as she did. Her head hurt. She expected to wake up on a cold stone floor, or potentially half in a pool of water. But she wasn't. She was lying on soft grass. The sun was setting, and there was a crackle of fire from beside her. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "What the…"

"Welcome back, firefly."

The voice startled her out of her grogginess. She sat up way too quickly, her head spinning. She groaned again, putting her hands to her temples.

Mordred chuckled. "You are mending quickly, but you should take it slow."

Taking a few slow, deep breaths, she focused on not throwing up or passing out again. When she could see straight, she looked up. There, sitting beside her on a fallen log, was Mordred. He was wearing black slacks and a black, loosely tied linen shirt. But he still wore his typical gauntlets, the iron armor running up his arms to his shoulders.

God, he was beautiful.

A rock lodged in her throat. She couldn't speak. She didn't know what to say. She simply threw herself into his arms, clutching him close.

He scooped her up into his lap, holding her tight as she began to cry. He shushed her gently, kissing the top of her head. "I am here, my love. I am here. You were successful. I am free. We are free."

Wrapping her arms around behind his neck, she kissed him. She had been so terrified she'd never be able to do that again—never be able to hold him. Her heart was full of too many emotions all at once. Happiness. Joy at having him back with her. Love for him. Fear about what he was going to do. And a deep dread of what she'd be forced to do in return.

"I would soothe your worries another way, but I believe we are both too injured for such a foray." Mordred smiled at her before vanishing his gauntlets to stroke her tears away.

"Yeah." Though that wasn't to say she wasn't tempted. She watched him for a moment, studying his features and his rust-colored eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I am." He paused. "As for my convictions—they remain the same, if that is what you were asking."

It was.

"I will protect you. I will protect Avalon. This game I have played with the elementals must go on no longer. I am sorry for the grief the death will cause you." He rested his palm against her cheek. "But better that than to see your beloved villagers murdered en masse, no?"

She shut her eyes, not being able to help but sink into his touch. It felt so damn good. "I just wish it didn't have to be this way. There has to be some other option."

"I have spent a thousand years attempting to find just that. But perhaps you will see the way forward where I have been unable to discover it." He kissed her forehead tenderly. "And should you come up with such a scheme, I vow I will listen to it."

At least he hadn't gone full murderous despot and had a little bit of reason left in him. Well, hadn't gone full murderous despot yet. There was still time. She rested her head on his shoulder. It was strange to fear him and love him in equal measure. She was having a damn hard time wrapping her head around how both could be possible simultaneously.

She supposed it had to do with the fact that she trusted him not to hurt her. It was just everybody else who was fucked. "What about Galahad? And Zoe, I guess."

"Hm. From your tone, I take it she did not give you the necklace willingly?"

"No. She tried—" She stopped short of telling Mordred that Zoe had tried to kill her. That would be an instant death sentence for the Gossamer Lady. "—to stop me from setting you free." That was still the truth. Just not all of it.

Damn it, she was sick of doing that to him.

"You fought." He tilted her head to look at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And the Gossamer Lady does not fight without intending to end a life. Do not lie to me."

"I—I'm not, it's true." She looked away. Shit. "Just not all of it. Please, don't kill her."

"And why should I not?" His expression darkened. "It was she who declared war against us."

"It's—it's not her, really. I mean, I don't want anybody to die. I really don't. And I get why she's scared of what you'll do. She isn't wrong." She shook her head and tried another tactic. "It's Galahad. I don't want to hurt him like that."

Mordred shut his eyes as he took a moment to think. "If he kneels and swears fealty, I will let him live."

"You know he won't."

"Precisely."

"Mordred…"

"I do not wish to argue with you. Not tonight. Not here." He opened his eyes to watch her again. "May we defer this discussion until we are home in my keep?"

"Fine. But I…um…" She paused. "About your keep."

He arched an eyebrow. "What did you do to it?"

"It's nothing, it's fine, it's just—we're going to have company." She smiled shyly. "The villagers are raising an army. I might have told them you'd help us defend them against the elementals."

The laugh that left him was genuine. As was the amusement and adoration in his eyes. "You seek to march a band of mortal villagers to fight creatures far more powerful than they are?"

"It's—I mean, they have a right to defend themselves. And I couldn't do it alone. With Thorn and Zoe trying to—" She broke off. Damn it. She just kept digging everyone deeper graves.

"Gwendolyn." His tone had that hardness to it that said she wasn't going to squeeze out of this one.

Her shoulders slumped. "They're both vying for the throne of Avalon. The moment you were gone, Thorn raised her own forces to try to take it. And Zoe is waiting for Thorn to get killed or wounded before she offs her and takes it for herself."

Mordred laughed again, but this time it was edged with a devious, almost sadistic joy. "How wonderful. So, if I understand correctly, we are looking at a fight between three forces. Ours, backed by my iron army and a motley crew of villagers. Thorn and her elementals. And the Gossamer Lady and whatever ploy she attempts to destroy us."

Gwen chewed her lip a little, thinking it through. "Yeah, I think that's all of it."

"You have been busy in my absence."

"Look, it isn't my fault! Zoe came after me, and Thorn is just a raging bitch already, so?—"

Mordred broke her off with a kiss.

A kiss that slowly deepened, slowly grew in passion, until she was breathless as he broke away. His hand threaded into her hair as he feathered kisses along her jaw, working his way down her throat.

She shivered. "I thought…"

"I will go easy on us both," he murmured as he undid the tie of her halterneck top at the back of her neck.

It was probably a really stupid idea. But she couldn't bring herself to say no. Her eyes slipped shut as he finished untying the laces that held her shirt on, tossing the fabric aside. He shifted them, laying her down on the soft grass as his lips continued to wander over her skin. His breath was hot as it pooled against her in sharp contrast to the chill of the ground beneath her.

When he captured one of her nipples in his mouth, nipping it between his teeth, she couldn't hold back the quiet moan that left her. He was way, way too good at getting her engine running. He sat back on his heels briefly to pull his shirt off over his head and to finish stripping both of them off the rest of their clothes. His body was such a work of art, the muscles that seemed enhanced by his scars. It made him somehow real—somehow touchable.

She didn't try to stop herself from letting her hands roam over him, savoring it. Until this moment, she wasn't so sure she'd ever be with him again. Come what may, she loved him. And right now, she needed him.

He trailed his kisses downward again, picking up where he left off, wandering down to her navel. His goal was clear. She whimpered as he parted her legs—the sound turning into a quiet cry as his tongue ran along her core before delving inside.

It seemed he was in no rush. He was savoring this as well, taking his sweet time as he lavished her, his hands continuing to roam over her, squeezing and kneading whatever he could reach. It felt amazing—but it wasn't enough. She needed more. More of him.

"Mordred—" she said through a gasp. "Please…"

He kissed her thigh before working his way back up, pausing to lick and bite at her nipples again, hard enough to sting without hurting her. He didn't make her beg—he was obviously experiencing as much need as she was. Mordred hooked one of her legs over his arm, her knee in the crook of his elbow.

The kiss he gave her was searing but not harsh as he drove himself into her—slow and unstoppable, like a force of nature. Her cry of bliss was muffled against his lips, tangling with his own guttural growl of pleasure as he sank himself to the hilt.

This wasn't about sex. This wasn't like their rougher forays. This was about love. About them. The future might be uncertain, but this wasn't. This was known. And this would last for as long as they were both alive.

He rocked himself in her. Even when he was being gentle, she felt every inch of him stretch her, pressing in all the right places. It was just on the line of too much, and it was perfect. Neither of them could go for long, exhausted and injured as they both were.

Mordred took pity on her. He broke the kiss to pull in a deep and ragged breath as he picked up his pace, sending her to new heights as he drove them both to the crescendo that waited for them.

She could only gasp out his name as she clung to him.

The muscles in his back tensed as he rammed himself into her to the hilt. The sensation of him surging inside of her was enough to send her into her own peak of ecstasy. He buried his head into the crook of her elbow to muffle his roar before suddenly wrapping his arms around her, sitting back on his heels with her on his lap, straddling him, without breaking their union.

The extra pressure of her weight drove him farther, and she swore her eyes rolled back into her head at the sensation of it all. Mordred clutched her close, arms circling her, as he twitched and spasmed in his release as her own body tightened around him in waves.

When Gwen could think straight again, she was unsure of how much time had passed. Mordred was kissing her again tenderly, trying to pull her back down to reality.

"I thought…you were going to take it easy on me," she murmured.

"I did." His smile was just a bit fiendish. He gently placed her on the grass before lying down beside her, pulling his cloak up over them both. It'd do for a blanket. She was too exhausted to try to summon anything better. "Trust me. That was far sweeter than what I will do to you later."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." She snuggled into him, resting her head on his arm. He wasn't wearing his armor at least—talk about a shitty pillow if he had been.

"It is not a threat; it is a promise."

"It's a turn of phrase." She yawned, already feeling sleep coming for her. And this time, she wouldn't be invading anybody's mind. Maybe it'd actually be restful for once.

He kissed the back of her head. "Sleep, my firefly. We resume our travel at first light. There is much to contend with come the morrow…"

There was. And the darkness in his voice made it obvious what he was talking about. But at least for now, she could pretend that this was all that was waiting for them. That there wouldn't be a war. That there wouldn't be a slaughter.

That she wouldn't have to try to stop the man she loved.

Trybeing the operative word.